


INSURGENCE: The Legend Of The Golden Prince

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Crown Prince Eren Yeager, Fluff, M/M, Politics, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:53:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eren Yeager is caught between wanting to fulfill his duties as the kingdom's crown prince and following what his heart really wants for his people. As he tries to navigate the deceitful political landscape of his kingdom, he seeks refuge in the mentorship of his royal guard, Levi Ackerman. Will Levi help him figure out what being a leader truly means, or will Eren learn what trust and betrayal are instead?





	INSURGENCE: The Legend Of The Golden Prince

_30th of March, nineteen years before the start of the golden age_

 

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK THAT STOOD at the corner of what he liked to call _The Headquarters_ told every person who was in the room that it was already half-past seven in the evening. Its ticking was the only sound that could be heard despite the abundance of people who were seated around the table, and the rhythmic beat only served to heighten the level of anxiety that already floated in the air. One wiped his forehead in obvious agitation; another just wished for the whole thing to just end. They’d already been at it for two hours after all, and everyone agreed that it was about time they finally ended the operation.

    Not that the time was a problem at the moment, of course; the night was still young in Mitras, and if he tried hard enough, His Majesty King Grisha Yeager could still hear the faint sound of his people’s laughter from the palace grounds. He honestly didn’t know what-in-the-name-of-the-goddesses they were doing anymore, and quite frankly, he’d stopped caring the moment the good news had broken out. They could have already blown some of the palace’s properties up for all he knew, and the king would just smile, even amidst the stressful night that the whole Council was having. It was an event worth celebrating after all, and Grisha had no plans of stopping the Mitran people from doing whatever they wanted to glorify this day - he’d even encourage them if he could.

    He probably _would._

    But he _couldn’t_ \-- at least not yet -- because there were more pressing matters that he still needed to take care of. It was really unfortunate that he was stuck in The Headquarters supervising a Council meeting while the rest of Mitras danced the night away, but he was the king -- the _monarch_ of Mitras -- before anything else, and bearing that title meant that he needed to make sure that his people were safe and free from terror first. He knew he could celebrate later to his heart’s content; he could do it with his queen, so right now he needed to focus on the task at hand.

    Grisha heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He didn’t know how the situation had come to this point. Had he wronged the goddesses somehow? Had he infuriated them so much that they’d decided to bring forth rebels in his kingdom? He’d done nothing but worship them; he’d always followed their sacred signs and offered them the most extravagant gifts that he could think of. Why some Mitrans had suddenly risen up against him was beyond him, but that didn’t matter anymore, because Grisha had decided to send the General of the Army to pacify them once and for all.

    “Your Majesty,” he heard someone say, effectively breaking him out of his thoughts, “Perhaps it’s about time we sent someone to check the area? The General is taking too long to finish the operation, even by his standards.”

    Grisha tilted his head and studied the man, adjusting his spectacles as he did so. The source of the voice was the usual Mitran highborn, with his hair already gray due to age and his round belly threatening to rip his fancy doublet apart. His chin was perched atop the back of his right hand, looking impatient and uncaring of the situation at hand, and Grisha fought the strong urge to just throw his godforsaken numbskull out. He didn’t even know why he’d invited Rufus in the first place; he’d always been useless when it came to military tactics. It would have been better if he'd been kept out of the loop, but Grisha knew that the goddesses wouldn't have approved of it. Rufus was an official, and no matter how obnoxiously he acted, Grisha wouldn’t ever ignore the Scripture’s request for him to be present in situations like this.

    That didn't mean, however, that the king wasn't going to put him in his place.

    “You would do well to remember that the General has never failed a mission, so far, Rufus,” Grisha replied, his tone firm and indicative of who the old man was talking to. Rufus sat straight and crossed his arms, but he knew better than to talk back. Grisha could tell that the old man was scared of the punishment that might be imposed upon him for disrespecting the kingdom’s most important possession, as was only proper. But no matter how much that pleased the king, it wasn’t nearly enough and he still felt the need to get his point across and defend his General.

    So Grisha leaned forward, rested his arms against the table where they all sat and said, “If he tells us that he’ll return to The Headquarters, then he _will_ return to The Headquarters.”

    As if on cue, the wooden doors opened and revealed the towering figure of the General of the Army. The light that came from the candles that were perched outside of the room, together with the glow that came from the lit fireplace in The Headquarters, almost made him look like he was the kingdom’s savior sent by the goddesses, which in part was true. He looked calm as the whole Council turned to look at him with the hope of good news, and when he locked eyes with Grisha, the king immediately relaxed. He knew that look too well; it was one he’d gotten several times in the past after all. It only meant one thing, and the king had never been so glad to see that look plastered across his General’s face tonight.

    “Erwin Smith,” Grisha proclaimed, “You have finally returned.”

    Erwin let out a reassuring smile and bowed low, the rest of the soldiers who had gone to the operation with him following his gesture. “I have, Your Majesty,” he replied.

    “Well?” someone interrupted after Erwin and the soldiers had straightened up. “Don’t waste our time any further, General. Did you kill the rebels? I have other matters to attend to later and I don’t want to return to town if it isn’t safe to do so yet.”

    Grisha’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance. Why was everyone so insufferable tonight? A dull ache was already starting to form in his head, and he didn’t really want it to get worse. Not today, at least; he needed to get to his queen soon. He didn't have the patience to sit through a whole room full of whiny old men tonight. He was already a second away from walking out without a word and letting them finish on their own.

    Thankfully, Erwin ignored Alianor and kept his attention on Grisha. “Your Majesty, I came to report the result of your order to eradicate the rebels who had decided to defy you and the Scripture’s teachings.”

    A pause.

    “And?” Grisha asked mechanically.

    “The operation is a success, Your Majesty. The rebels have been defeated.”

    There was a collective sigh of relief from the Council, but Grisha couldn’t afford that just yet. “All of them?” he asked. He needed to make sure. If this point in time was going to be the start of his kingdom’s golden age, then this was the least that he could do to help the future king.

    “Yes, Your Majesty,” Erwin confirmed. It was a firm answer, with no hint of uncertainty in it. He was doing a good job of ignoring the rest of the Council’s questions, completely intent on answering the king’s questions, and for that, Grisha was glad. He might have also seen a hint of amusement in Erwin’s steely gaze, but the king was way too impatient to scrutinize it further. He was mostly just glad that they had finally taken care of the problem.

    After a few more tense seconds, Grisha finally let himself sigh in relief. He laid back against his chair and smiled, wondering why he’d been apprehensive about this whole operation in the first place. Erwin Smith was the most capable General that he’d ever had in his entire tenure as king. He had been seemingly far too young when Grisha had appointed him as the leader of the army a few years ago, and despite a couple of protests from the Council due to his age, Erwin had proven himself to be a superior soldier and strategist -- one who obviously stood above the rest of his peers. He was thorough with his missions; he didn’t leave loose ends or sloppy giveaways. It was scary, if Grisha was being honest, but as long as Erwin was on his side, then he didn’t need to worry about anything at all.

    He let himself smile and opened his eyes to look at Erwin. They still needed to talk about a lot of things, that was for sure, but they all deserved to rest, especially his soldiers for working hard. They were finally safe from the threat of the rebels, and that was all that mattered tonight. “Very well,” he said as he prepared to stand up and make his way to the Queen’s chambers. “I believe the rest can be discussed tomorrow. It has been an extremely long and arduous night, and I’d like to thank all of you for staying through it all. Please be on standby over the next few days. I might ask for you any time. Other than that, the meeting is now dismissed.”

    The servants came in to clean up their mess, and Grisha gave Erwin a look that clearly said _We’ll talk more tomorrow._ He himself was already tired, and it was time he celebrated as well. He didn’t wait for Erwin’s response and briskly walked along the familiar corridors of the palace. The Queen’s chambers was located at the third floor of the eastern wing, and the steps he had taken on his way were probably the _most_ he’d ever had in his entire life. He didn’t even know why he was so nervous all of a sudden. He was supposed to be excited. He was supposed to be barging in right now and showering his wife with all the affection that he could offer. Instead, his hands were clammy as he stood in front of the wooden doors of his queen’s room, about a few seconds away from having a mental breakdown. He was already having a hard time breathing properly, and he cursed himself for acting like the complete opposite of a mighty king.

    Realizing that delaying this further would lead to nothing, Grisha finally pushed open the wooden door. The familiar walls that greeted him were covered with red damask fabric that had a lines of silver roses weaved into it, and the sight made the king feel warm and cozy all over. There was an old Scripture passage that said, _the Queen was scarlet and to look scarlet was to be Queen_. As it was the color of the human blood, of passionate love and of family, no one was worthy enough to embody the scarlet color besides the one person who would take on the role of bearing the kingdom’s future leader, Mitras’ Crown Prince. As such, his wife was thoroughly reminded of the importance of her role, from the scarlet curtains that adorned her windows to the upholstery that graced her room’s furniture. The pressure must have been heavy on her, but if there was one thing that Grisha had complete faith in, it would be his wife’s ability to rise through any challenge. He had no doubt that she would fulfill her duties no matter what.

    There was a portrait of him and the queen on the wall to his left, and Grisha couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought that they would finally have to add one more beside it in the future. It made him smile unconsciously. He’d never really given the idea of raising a family much thought. He’d known that he would have to deal with it soon enough, but until a few hours ago, Grisha had only ever been focused on becoming the king that Mitras truly deserved. It was his duty after all. But tonight marked the emergence of another priority for Grisha. He was finally going to start another chapter in his life, and it terrified and excited him at the same time.

    “Carla,” Grisha breathed, the sound of his wife’s name sweet enough to rid him of the stress that had rained down on him a few hours ago. Carla was laying on the bed by the windows, looking as beautiful as ever, and Grisha’s smile widened. He was so glad he’d picked her during the Choosing Season. From her beautiful dark hair that flowed perfectly down her shoulders to those bright, golden eyes that blazed with unparalleled passion, Carla was considered to be the finest queen that the kingdom had ever had. She was strong-willed and wise, and she was always there to support Grisha when he needed it. He wished that he could capture the sight in front of him into a painting, but he settled for just savoring the moment. He could get another chance to do so in the future anyway, and besides, he had other things to attend to at the moment.

    Carla looked up and smiled at her husband. She was holding a bundle of fabric in her arms, which would have looked funny if he hadn’t known what was in it. Or rather, _who_ was in it. The bundle moved and so did Carla, cooing to it as if it was the most fragile thing in the entire world. It probably was at the moment. To them, it was. Grisha moved to sit beside her, his heart hammering against his chest -- whether from anxiety or excitement, he had no clue. He couldn’t turn back anymore, though. This was finally the moment he’d been waiting for, and he exhaled sharply when he sat down next to Carla.

    His heart leapt out of his chest when he finally saw what was in the bundle of fabric in her arms. There was a tiny head poking out of it and a little curled fist laid out close. The little thing’s eyes were still closed as he drifted off again to the sound of his mother singing him a lullaby, and Grisha couldn’t help but brush through the brown locks around the baby’s head fondly. It was really just an adorable sight. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him no matter how hard he tried. There was just something about the little thing that made him look so precious and sweet. Was it the baby’s hair, perhaps? Or his fluffy cheeks? It could be his lips, too, but Grisha didn’t care. He loved them about him all the same. He drew his fingers back again, though, when the baby moved, afraid that he’d wake him up. He had yet to learn about taking care of newborns, after all, and he didn’t want to be the reason behind an unfortunate event happening to their child.

    He still couldn’t get enough of it, though. A boy. They really finally had a baby boy. He honestly still didn’t know what to feel. He was still so tiny, so _fragile_ , but this baby in Carla’s arms would eventually grow up to become the most powerful man in the kingdom. It was Grisha’s last duty as king -- to be a father to his child and at the same time be a mentor who would groom the Crown Prince into a capable leader. In essence, the future of Mitras depended on him and his ability to train the Crown Prince’s skills. It was a task that he couldn’t afford to fail, and the pressure was heavier on Grisha now more than ever.

    Tonight, though, he was going to focus on his son alone. He would worry about his responsibilities later. He brought his index finger to their son’s cheek and stroked it lightly, earning him a little scrunch from the little boy’s nose. Grisha stared at him in awe. “He’s so adorable,” he whispered.

    Carla smiled and hummed in agreement as she rocked their son a little bit in order to lull him back to sleep. She looked more radiant than ever, with her cheeks glowing a beautiful shade of pink and her smile blinding enough that he would have thought it wasn’t night time if he hadn’t known better. “He is,” she murmured. “Our little Eren is so lovely; I bet he’ll get lots of girls to like him when he grows up.”

    Ah, yes. They had decided to call their son _Eren_ a few weeks ago. It had been a sign from the goddesses, and Grisha didn’t think that there was a name that would have been more fitting for his son. _Eren_ was an old Mitran word that literally meant power. There had only been two kings who had taken on said name in the history of Mitras, and the fact that the goddesses had given them the permission to call his son as such made the king prouder than he’d ever been in his entire life. Eren Yeager would definitely make a formidable king.

    Carla’s other statement caught his attention more, though. “Girls?” he repeated as he looked down at their son. He was sure that Eren would grow up to be a handsome young man, seeing as he mostly had his mother’s features, but the thought of women flocking next to him worried the king. Their son, Eren, deserved only the best lady who would support him and bring out the best in him. Anything less than that would be considered a crime, and Grisha was going to make sure that Eren’s Choosing Season would showcase Mitras’ finest women. It was only fitting.

    “The girls can only dream,” Grisha continued, and that comment earned him a quiet tut from Carla. He just ignored it, though, even if he knew what Carla really meant as he made himself more comfortable next to his wife. “Of course, dear,” he agreed anyway, and he didn’t need to look to know that Carla was definitely smiling.

    “I would do anything for him,” Carla whispered. There was so much warmth and love in her voice that Grisha’s heart clenched painfully. Eren was going to have to live a life that was different from any other Mitran, and Carla’s motherly instincts were probably already surfacing. They both understood, though, that these things were out of their control, even if it was hard. Eren’s future had already been prophesied by the great elder, and until now, they still couldn’t get their heads around it.

 _This boy,_ the great elder had said, _would start this kingdom’s golden age._

    The prophecy and the name that the goddesses had given their child only proved how critical Eren’s role would be in leading the kingdom. He was only _barely_ a day old, and yet so much was already expected of him. Either way, though, they had no choice but to face this head-on and hope for the best. They were the _Yeager_ family, after all. They were hunters that always caught their prey. They would get through this no matter what.

    Grisha held Carla close to him and looked at the sight outside through the window. There were a lot of stars tonight, blinking vibrantly as if the sky was celebrating the day with them, and it made him feel a little better inside. _Golden age_ sounded nice, and although that was an era that he wanted to witness, he was more excited to see how his son would make this kingdom the greatest that it had ever been. Being regarded as a good king was nice, but now that he’d finally seen his son, he decided that being a proud father was going to feel much, much better, and he was willing to do anything in order to experience that.

    There was so much to look forward to.

    The best was yet to come.

**Author's Note:**

> *inhales deeply*
> 
> Aaaaaaaah here's a new story for everyone I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> It's only the prologue though, and I've been trying to really get back into writing, so I hope you guys like this! It's a very ambitious plot and project; I've already plotted in my head (and my phone) what how the story is going to pan out, and I'm hoping that posting this will help me get my groove on. I have work and post-graduate studies as well, but this story is special to me, and I really want to finish it, even if it seems impossible.
> 
> For now, tell me what you guys think about this!


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